Not Like The Movies
by SaveMarissa
Summary: When Blair leaves, where does that leave Dan and the marriage she left behind?


Sometimes, writing takes an interesting twist. For example, I started writing with the intention of writing a prequel to my story "something new" which is located here, but I ended up writing this instead. It takes place in the same universe as "something new", so I would encourage you to read it (and review!), but you don't necessarily have to in order to understand this story. Really, the only crossover is that Dan and Blair were married in "something new", and this was supposed to be a continuation of their life together.

Hopefully I haven't confused you too much! Please review (it makes me smile and makes me a better writer), especially with quotes or moments that you liked or didn't like. Thanks!

...

Dan doesn't remember how the fight started.

All he can think right now is how he wishes he could make it stop.

It's certainly not their first fight, but it's definitely their biggest. The first one that's actually meant something other than "Well, you're wrong, you just don't know Audrey like I do" or "Catcher in the Rye is a classic, not an 'ode to whining, disaffected youth', princess."

Blair is waving a magazine in his face, rage boiling over in her eyes. "Maybe you don't remember this, Humphrey, but you picked _me_! You don't get to write about _her_ anymore!"

She is beautiful, and strong, and Dan swore on the day he said, "I do" that she'd never feel second best to anyone _ever again_.

But that doesn't mean there aren't things about her that are out of his control. And no matter how much he tries to help her, there is a quiet insecurity that she just can't shake. Normally, she can handle Dan writing blurbs about "golden haired beauties" and "radiant smiles from childhood dreams."

But not today. Not anymore.

The object in Blair's hand contains Dan's newest published work, a slight dabble in some weird science fiction/fantasy hybrid called "Goldilocks" that he never thought anyone would ever want to read, much less publish. But it's obvious who it's about. Yet, it's not so much about her, or rather how he feels about her, it's just that he's written about her for so long that it just comes naturally.

But the story's not real (after all, that's the point), and neither are the feelings Blair thinks he has for her. Those are gone, have been ever since he saw Blair, really _saw_ her for the passionate, intelligent woman that she is, always has been. He just wishes he could explain to her that the easiest things aren't necessarily the best, that it's the things that you have to work for that reap the greatest benefits.

"Blair, this is ridiculous. I wrote a whole book that basically revolved around how much I loved you, even when you treated me like shit, by the way, and you're going to get mad over a few pages in The New Yorker?"

"You wrote a book that crashed and burned and then faded into oblivion about me. Gee, forgive me for bowing at your feet at the privilege of being your muse." She's not yelling anymore, but her tone is biting and harsh.

Frustrated, he walks toward her and grabs her hands, squeezing, trying _anything_ to get through to her. He can practically feel her wrath burning deep in his chest. "I would write a _thousand_ books for you. Who cares if no one reads them? They're for _us_!"

She scoffs, "So, you and me, that's just for us, huh? But you and Serena? That's for the whole world? You want everyone in the world to know how great the marvelous Serena van der Woodsen is, right? Well, that's fine. Tell them. And while you're at it, tell them Blair Waldorf is the bitch that broke your heart because I'm leaving."

And before he can barely open his mouth, Blair is at the door of the loft, holding it open and looking back at him with such disappointment in her eyes before she shuts them and shakes her head. She slams the door and Dan is left standing in the middle of the living room, unable to process everything.

All he can manage to think is, _She'll come back. She has to._

...

It's been two weeks since he's seen her.

In that time, he's become a zombie. His daily activities consist of eating bowls of cereal that he buys from the corner market and staring at the television from dawn until dusk. He's watched more TV in these two weeks than he's watched in his whole life, but if you were to give him a quiz on all the content, he'd fail every question. The baseball games, the news reports, the sitcoms, it's all white noise. He has the TV on when he falls asleep so he can trick himself into thinking he's not alone, and he awakes to it so he can make believe the sounds are her waking up early to cook him breakfast or put a vase of freshly bought flowers on the kitchen table.

Like she would've ever done that before.

When denial doesn't work, he tries anger. What did _she_ ever do for _him_? He was the one who had to watch her love not one, but two other men before setting her heart on him. He was the one who had to help her out of every jam she got herself into, knowing he'd probably only receive a caustic dismissal in return for his services.

Still, he can't hate her. Even when she was the "95-pound, doe-eyed, bonmot-tossing, label-whoring package of girly evil", he understood her.

And he just wants her to come home.

...

A week later, he's lying on the couch counting the speckles on the ceiling tiles. His insomnia has been particularly bad the last few days, so he tries whatever he can to help him catch even a few minutes of restless sleep. He hears a key turn in the lock, and attempts to sit up and put on a brave face for his dad or Lily.

When he sees the man walk in the door, he's not sure what face he should put on.

"Chuck, how did you…?"

Chuck Bass is standing in his home (_their_ home, dammit) with a bottle of scotch in one hand and a leash in the other. Dan looks down and realizes he is not alone. Monkey is wagging his tail eagerly.

Chuck takes off his coat and lays it neatly on the edge of the couch before unhooking the leash from Monkey's collar. The dog immediately runs to Dan, and he absentmindedly pets the creature, still gaping as Chuck speaks, "I took the key from Lily. She told me how you've been feeling lately, and she admitted they weren't having much luck getting through to you. Have some glasses?"

Chuck is holding up the scotch, and Dan can hardly believe he's walking over to his cabinets to get them glasses for some weird "sorry your wife, who just happened to be my ex-girlfriend that I was in a torrid love affair with for the better part of our early twenties, left you" toast. Unfortunately, Dan hasn't exactly been keeping the neatest quarters since Blair left, and most of his glasses are dirty. The only two remotely clean ones he can find are plastic My Little Pony cups that Jenny must've used as a toddler.

Chuck visibly winces at Dan's suggestion to use garage sale cups for his rare scotch. His tone is firm with just a slight hint of condescension, "Humphrey, go take a shower. Monkey and I will take care of this disaster."

Dan doesn't know why, but he listens to Chuck. He stands in the shower until the water runs cold, and feels relieved for the first time in a while that someone will be waiting for him when he's finished, even if that person is Chuck Bass. When he walks back into the kitchen, the counters that were previously covered with dirty bowls and cups are virtually spotless. He sees that Chuck has found two actual glasses (although certainly not up to _his_ standards) and has poured each of them a stiff drink. He hands one to Dan and keeps one for himself. They drink without toasting and finish in one swig. As Chuck is pouring them another, Dan briefly stops him.

"Chuck, why are you here?"

He purses his lips and sighs before looking back to Dan and answering honestly.

"I never thought she'd do this." And then quieter, "Not to you."

...

"Come on, Serena, just turn them on and go for it."

"Nate, I don't think that's the greatest idea. What if I cut him?"

"Are you two going to get on with this? He and I have some serious drinking to do."

_Bzzz. _

Dan jolts awake as soon as the electric razor hits his skin. He rubs the spot on his jaw, now empty of the scruff he's been accumulating for the past few weeks. It's strange compared to the rest of his face which is still very densely covered with a dark five o'clock shadow. He frowns at Serena who is smiling nervously, trying to act like she's not holding the smoking gun.

"What the hell, guys?"

Nate takes the lead. "Look, man, you want to hole up in here and drink with Chuck every day? It's not the healthiest option, but we're not gonna stop you. But you've got to stop looking like a serial killer. That's definitely not gonna bode well with her when she comes back."

_When_. Dan admires Nate's optimism, but he's accepted his truth.

"All right, I'll shave, but only because you guys seem so adamant about it being gone. _She's_ irrelevant."

Serena starts to protest with a soft "Dan…", but Chuck cuts her off, handing Dan the libation that has become so frequent that Chuck has started keeping two of his own personal glasses here at the loft.

"She isn't yet, but she will be."

Dan doesn't know if Chuck is hoping she'll never return because he wants Dan to feel his pain or because he's hoping the longer she stays away, the better his chances of getting her back will be.

As the warm liquid slides down Dan's throat, he finds that he doesn't much care.

...

Every day for weeks, Chuck has showed up with a bottle of scotch and every night he leaves after it's empty. Dan thinks it's pretty silly for him to call his driver back and forth to Brooklyn each day, but he and Chuck aren't exactly the kind of friends that sleep over at each other's houses. He's not exactly sure what kind of friends they are at all, really.

On this night, Dan is stumbling to the bathroom, attempting to brush his teeth when he hears the door open again. He figures Chuck must have forgotten something, so he wanders back into the living room to see what it was.

And that's when he sees her.

It's only been about six weeks, but after getting used to the feel of her hand in his, the pressure of her body against his chest while they slept, the sounds she made only for him, it feels like a dream. He has to reach out to the wall to steady himself.

"You're not Chuck."

It's blunt, and if he were sober, he would kick himself for not being more romantic, more caring, more anything than obvious. She looks confused, and hurt.

"I haven't been with Chuck, Dan. I haven't been with anyone."

Ahh, she thinks he was being nasty, making the assumption that she was _with_ Chuck, not in fact, actually _being_ the enabler who shows up night after night to help Dan mask his pain. He knows he shouldn't correct her, but again the booze takes over and he explains, "No, Chuck comes over here like _all_ the time, and we drink and…"

He's babbling and slurring and he doesn't even realize how fucked up it is that he and Chuck Bass have become _allies_ until she bites back angrily, "You've been hanging out with Chuck? Why?"

Feeling brave from the alcohol in his system, he attempts to stand up a little taller, and almost convinces himself that he's sobered up when he replies.

"Because he knows what it's like to lose you, and how much it horribly, absolutely _sucks_."

Suddenly, her mouth softens and her eyes are shining. She was so hurt by the fact that Dan would choose to align himself with her dreaded ex that she had completely forgotten the reason she was here.

To say she was sorry. To explain to her husband why she left.

To come home.

But none of that matters now because he won't remember in the morning. If he wakes up and sees her, he will have so many unanswered questions about her return in addition to the ones he had about why she left.

So, she walks over to him and gets so close he can feel her again. He's overwhelmed by the smell of her perfume. His tongue involuntarily flicks out and runs across his lips at the recollection of the taste of her skin. He reaches out to touch her face when she intercepts his hand with hers. She says quietly, "You've had a lot to drink. Let's get you to bed."

He's so tired of everything that he instantly obliges. She guides him to his bedroom (_their_ bedroom, he wants to correct, but he can't quite get the words out) and to the bed, where she pulls a sheet up around his waist, drinking in the overwhelmingly gorgeous picture of his upper body in just a thin tank top. She sits down next to the bed and lets his hand drop from hers. Something feels strange when he lets go, but he can't pinpoint it.

His eyes are heavy and with his last breath before dozing off, he whispers, "Cedric missed you." He feels two drops of damp warmth fall on his skin as she admits, "I missed him too."

When he wakes up, there's only a bottle of aspirin and a glass of water on his nightstand to greet him. His memory of last night is so hazy that if someone asked him to put money on whether or not Blair had been there last night, he'd have trouble deciding which side to bet on.

Then he remembers the thing that felt so strange. He had been holding her left hand, and when he let go, it felt so empty. And then it hits him.

Blair wasn't wearing her ring.

...

The next night, Chuck shows up right on schedule. Only this time, Dan stops him before he can even get the bottle open.

"Blair was here last night. And I wasn't exactly in the best shape to receive her."

Chuck laughs, attempting to coax Dan's hand off the top of the bottle, "I've had dreams like those too, Humphrey. They'll pass."

Dan is determined to make him understand, "No, Chuck, she was _here_, which means she'll come back. And I've got to be ready for her when she does."

Chuck picks up his bottle and shrugs, putting his coat back on, "Suit yourself."

He leaves, and the next morning, Dan begins running with Nate.

...

The days go by faster once Dan stops moping and starts being active. Much to the delight of his friends, he is shaving every day and he's actually started to smile.

Nate shoots and scores, ending another game. He and Dan have played one-on-one three times so far and Dan has lost every time. He throws a towel over his shoulder as he and Nate begin to walk off the court, "You know, I have been through a lot. You could let me win one of these times."

"I'm not Chuck, man. Tough love."

Although Nate disapproved of Dan and Chuck's brief mutual destruction, he smiles. They walk to the point where they normally split up, where Nate goes back to his apartment and Dan rushes back to Brooklyn, and Nate turns to him.

"So, what do you say? Wanna watch the game back at my place?"

Dan is instantly apprehensive, "I should get back."

Nate raises an eyebrow, "To what? Look, I love Blair and you're my best friend, and I can't wait for the day she comes back and you guys become so sickeningly sweet again that we all wonder why we wanted you back together in the first place. But she left you. Maybe it would do some good for her to come home and not find you. Make her realize how alone you've felt all these weeks."

Dan hasn't told any of them that he saw Blair that night because he's not sure if they'd even believe it. Hell, he'd be in a state of disbelief too if the image of her bare left hand wasn't seared into his brain. He tries to shake it off as he realizes Nate's still staring at him, waiting for an answer.

"All right," he concedes, "But you're paying for the pizza."

Nate acts concerned, but there's an edge of playfulness to his voice as he replies, "You know this whole 'abandoned outsider' thing _is_ gonna get old at some point, right?"

...

Two more weeks go by and Dan has fallen into a much healthier routine than the one he had set with Chuck or the one he had created by himself. He gets up early every morning, eats a bowl of cereal (and actually cleans the dish), watches the news, and writes until sometime in the early afternoon before he goes running or plays basketball with Nate. He's writing about everything, but in such an indirect way that it doesn't seem like things that have actually happened to him. It takes him a few days before he realizes.

He's writing a fairy tale.

With a dedication that reads: _To the princess with the headband tiara_.

...

Every day she watches as her ex-boyfriend and her husband run past her on the street. They've had this afternoon running routine for about two weeks now, so she positions herself where she can see them (see _him_) perfectly, but she remains unnoticeable.

Except by the girl who places a coffee in her hand every afternoon and sits down to watch with her.

"You've gotta talk to him, B. Do you know he won't even let me come over to the loft unless I'm with Nate or Chuck? He doesn't want you to come back and see that I'm there because he knows that's the reason you left. He may look like he's in a good place, but he's desperate to have you back. I don't know how much longer he's going to be able to keep this up."

She's desperate too. Desperate to crawl back into his arms and never leave, to listen to the little sounds he makes in his sleep, to feel his hands gripping her waist in the heat of passion. But she also knows she's scared, and the longer she stays away, the more scared she gets. She knows he could never hate her, but she's afraid that after everything she's done, he might just decide to give her a taste of her own medicine.

She's afraid he just might leave.

And really, wouldn't that be the punishment she deserves?

But she's never been one to show she's scared, so she simply scoffs at her best friend's suggestion and shoots back, "I thought you were supposed to be on _my_ side."

Serena pats her on the shoulder as she goes to leave, "You're on the same side, Blair."

...

When she walks through the door, Dan is so happy to see her that he runs to the door and hugs her so tightly her feet come off the ground. She laughs, playfully slapping him so he'll let her go.

For weeks, it's been his dad, Lily, Chuck, Serena, Nate, and while he's really appreciated their attention, nothing quite warms his heart like the sight of his little sister.

Jenny is fresh-faced, wearing no makeup except for a little bit of lip gloss and she's smiling. Not smiling like she just finished doing someone's bidding or received the honor of sitting on the Met steps, but really _smiling_. Dan remembers he only used to see her like this when she was designing, and apparently that's all she's been doing in Hudson.

She talks a mile a minute, and Dan knows she's trying to distract him from the hell he's currently going through. He's filled her in sparingly, but he's sure their father has more than compensated for Dan's shortness. Still, he can tell she is genuinely happy as she tells him they should "totally make waffles and have a Humphrey brunch! Except, you know, without Dad, or…"

It's on the tip of her tongue, but she either doesn't want to say it either because she doesn't want to upset Dan, or she's still having trouble with the fact that Blair is a Humphrey now, and "Humphrey's don't leave."

He wants to point out where she's been living as an argument to the contrary, but she came all this way to see him. He doesn't want her to leave on a technicality. He just hopes _his_ wife doesn't follow in the footsteps of the last wife who left this loft. He still loves his mom, but that doesn't change the fact that she never came back.

In the end, the argument doesn't really matter because Jenny's pause couldn't have been placed in a more appropriate spot. The second her voice trails off, the door to the loft timidly swings open.

And there she is. No drunken stupor to disguise it now.

Blair Humphrey is no Alison Humphrey. She's back.

Dan doesn't quite know what to say, and neither does she. He told Chuck that he would be ready for her when she came back, but the truth is, he's not sure how he could have ever prepared himself for this moment. Thank God for Jenny, who seems to breeze through the awkwardness as if it were nothing at all. She's gotten past the high school drama, and has learned to look at Blair's "banishment" as a gift. Without it, she never would have been so focused on her designs. She smiles with not a single trace of malice intended, "Hi, Blair. Would you like a waffle?"

"I…" Blair seems to stumble, looking between the man she loves and his little sister, and Dan can't help but smile a little smugly. Little J making the Queen B nervous? Or better yet, Lonely Boy putting B's tongue in a twist? Gossip Girl would have a field day.

But although she may be broken, she is still the strong woman Dan married, the woman that can still take him by surprise. She quickly regains her composure and smiles back, "I'd love one, Jenny. Thank you."

Dan can't believe his ears. Blair and Jenny being civil to one another? Is no one on his side?

He shakes his head and walks away from the kitchen counter. Blair calls after him and he can hear her hurried footsteps rushing to follow his path. By the time she follows him into the bedroom, his coat is already half on.

"Are you leaving? What about your waffle?"

He wants to scream at her. His _waffle_? She left him alone for _months_ and all she cares about is his waffle?

But he knows he can't do that. He knows she's hiding her true feelings way deep down, but it's going to take some coaxing to get it out of her.

He just doesn't have the patience for it right now.

He may not be able to yell at her, but that doesn't mean he doesn't want her to know he's hurt. So he responds venomously, "Throw it away. Throw it away like you did my ring."

She gasps, not realizing he had noticed the jewelry's absence. He brushes past her before she has a chance to explain.

All he hears before he slams the door behind him is, "Dan, I didn't…!"

...

As soon as he walks off the elevator in the penthouse, he sees exactly who he's looking for.

"Dan!" Serena smiles, pleased. "What a great surprise! We never see you around here anymore!"

He doesn't have time for her cuteness. His nerves are still frazzled, and now that he's here, he has no idea why. How could he have left Blair? What if she leaves again? He can't help thinking that this was his one chance to get her back and he blew it.

"Serena," he says solemnly, "she's back."

At first she's confused, "Who's ba…?" and then it dawns on her.

Then, she says his name again, but this time she scolds him, "Dan! What are you doing here?"

He sighs, "I don't know! Just seeing her and sharing her space, it made me dizzy. I couldn't be there."

All the glow has faded from Serena and all of a sudden she looks tired as she sighs, "Why did she leave you?"

He can't believe what he's hearing. Isn't this what they've been dwelling on for weeks? Why is she asking him this?

And then he realizes why she's asking.

Blair left because of Serena. And where is he standing now?

He is _such_ an idiot.

He motions toward the elevator, "I have to…"

Serena nods with a small smile, "Good luck. And Dan?"

He's almost gone when he turns back around to hear what she has to say.

"Don't come back."

...

By the time he gets back to the loft, his hands are shaking. He's nervous with the thought that she won't be there, but also, nervous with the thought that she will be.

He doesn't allow time to psych himself out, and opens the door, expecting her to yell at him for running out if she is there or cold, stunned silence if she's not.

What he doesn't expect is to see her sitting on the arm of one of the living room chairs, looking down at her shoes like a child who just got scolded by her parents. When the door opens, she looks at him and something like either shame or fear (but not excitement, he notes) crosses her face.

This is not the Blair Waldorf he married.

"This your attempt to look as sad and pathetic as possible?"

He's mentally screaming, _what's wrong with you? Why are you talking to her like that?_ He feels like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde around her. He wants to be nice and forgiving, but the part of him that is still hostile and angry with her always seems to be the one doing the talking.

She stiffens a little at his accusation. "No. Jenny just left shortly after you did, and I wasn't sure what I should do. She said she was leaving so I could feel like you've felt all this time."

He's proud of his sister for defending his honor. He realizes now that she wasn't offering Blair waffles earlier because she had no regard for his feelings, she was simply trying to see where Dan stood. If he was ready to forgive, then so was she. But the fact that he stormed out the door kind of sealed the deal, and she supported her brother no matter what.

He can't help wondering how this time alone has made her feel, so he presses, "And?"

She has a small smile, like she's come to a conclusion about something. "And I'm sorry I banished her because she would've been a great successor. She's fiercely loyal."

He shrugs, "That's a sister's job." _And a wife's_, he thinks bitterly, but doesn't say it.

They're talking around everything that stands between them, and Dan can feel the air getting thicker as the seconds of silence tick by. Before it threatens to swallow him whole, he just has to know.

"Why did you take it off?"

Blair gulps, absentmindedly rubbing her bare ring finger. She is struggling to avoid his gaze as she answers, "I know it's important to you…"

"No, see, that's not it." She's stunned that he interrupted her, but she listens attentively. He continues, "I don't want to know why because of me. I want to know because…"

He sits down on the couch across from her and forces their eyes to meet. "Do you remember, at the reception, when we were talking to Vanya? You were standing right next to me with your arm resting up on my shoulder so that everyone could see your ring, even if they weren't anywhere near us. Vanya made a joke about how you shouldn't ever let a man go who would buy you a ring like that, and you said…"

Dan feels his breath hitch because this is the part that shakes him to his core. It scares him that Blair might not love him in the way she always promised to.

"You laughed and you said, 'Dan can run wherever he wants to, but I'm never leaving this ring.' And I know…I know it was just a joke, but I can't help thinking, if you could change your mind about the ring…"

Blair is forced to lean into him as he whispers, "Who's to say you haven't changed your mind about me?"

He can tell that his words sting as she squeezes her eyes shut, painfully. But he's laid it all out on the line. If she walks now, she'll walk out seeing him as bare and vulnerable as he's ever been.

It feels like an eternity before she opens her eyes, but when she does, she begins to speak, and her voice is steady and composed.

"I haven't changed my mind about you, Dan. You're still the man I fell in love with, and I'm still that girl that wants to be everything for you. But I knew I couldn't just waltz back in here, ring shining, and act like nothing had happened. Being your wife doesn't mean I just get to walk out when things get hard and walk back in when the storm blows over."

She reaches toward her chest, and Dan watches her pull a chain from inside her shirt. And that's when he sees her ring hanging around her neck.

"I keep it with me all the time, but I…" Tears have begun to form in her eyes, and Dan can't help but think that, months ago, he would've instantly reached over and held her in his arms until the tears went away. Now, he can't help but just stare and hang on her every word.

"I can't put it back on until I know that we're the way we were before. Until I know we're going to last forever. Because there have been so many times in my life that felt like forever, but I was wrong. I can't be wrong again, Dan."

He nods, but part of him can't help feeling disappointed and deflated. He realizes that when he walked through the door, he expected to hear her explanation, to forgive her, and to move on, picking up where they left off.

Dan and Blair: not like the movies. The slow build up, the denial, the fear of outsiders. What happens when the princess and the pauper walk off, hand in hand, and the credits roll?

Life happens.

...

The next few weeks are a lot more like the past few weeks than Dan would've ever expected. In his mind, the grand reunion would've taken place and he and Blair would be back out in public, sharing secret smiles and showing each other off. They would've holed themselves up in the loft for days, re-learning everything about each other.

Well, part of that's still true.

Dan had been living in self-imposed solitary confinement before, and now, he's living in self-imposed confinement with Blair. She washes, he dries. He sleeps on the couch, she takes the bed. She reads, he writes. Before, if he was in the bathroom, taking a shower, and she had decided it was her turn, she would've burst in, brushing her teeth, no matter how it changed the temperature on him. Sometimes, when he was lucky, she would join him in the shower, using some excuse like conserving water or not wanting to waste time by both of them having to shower separately.

He would smile, but never bother to point out the contradictions between her reasoning and her love of extravagance. Even though her spending is usually likened to her love for clothes, shoes and fancy things, Dan knows it's more than that. When she loves, it's with her whole heart. He values all her smiles, but the ones that make his heart swell are the ones that are almost too big, the ones that make her eyes sparkle. Where Blair spends like nobody's business, Dan saves everything about her and commits it to memory. Because he never knows when it could be gone.

He should be a psychic.

Now, she waits patiently on the edge of the bed, towel on her lap, waiting for Dan to be finished. The first time this happened, Dan was so taken aback by the uncharacteristic behavior that he asked, "Are you mad at me for something?"

As soon as the question left his lips, he begged every power in the universe to take them back. He stumbled over his words, "I, uh…I'm so sorry, it's just…"

She had just shrugged her shoulders before closing the bathroom door behind her, her mouth barely quirking up for something resembling a pity smile. Dan had never felt more ridiculous.

This is how they act around each other now. Awkward and unsure. Afraid to ask questions for fear of taking things too far or making the other one uncomfortable. Dan is so frustrated with it, but he doesn't know what he should do. All he knows is this is not how things should be.

This is not how lovers should act.

And he knows this because he still loves Blair. He loves her in a way that still feels like forever.

He just wonders, if she's gotten so good at acting like this, is she really acting at all?

...

Blair's never liked to be alone during a thunderstorm. Dan remembers when they first moved in and he would be writing, while she was off on her own somewhere in the loft, the two of them perfectly blissful. Then, all of a sudden, the thunder would rumble and she would be at his side, wanting to edit his manuscript or begging him to "stop being such a _writer_ and come watch a movie with me."

Dan was never really sure what she meant by that, but he'd always smile, close his laptop, and let her lead him over to the couch. She'd always pick the movie, but he wouldn't mind. He was happy just to be there with her.

Tonight, he's sitting in the bed, laptop open and sitting on his legs, and she's in the living room when he hears a noise so loud it shakes the loft a little. He looks to the window and sees the rain coming down in sheets. When he turns back to the doorway, she's standing there, book in hand, waiting expectantly. He smiles sympathetically and pats the bed next to him. She laughs, exasperated, but takes the spot.

"It's stupid, I know."

"Nah, it's just you."

_It's you. It couldn't be awful._

It's the closest they've come to being intimate since she's been back. Dan wants to hang on to this moment, where she looks into his eyes instead of averting his gaze like she has been all this time.

When she finally looks away, she clears her throat, signaling that the moment is over. Dan snaps out of his daydream and turns back to the blank document staring him down on the computer screen. He watches the cursor blink in time with the ticking of the clock. Suddenly, all of his senses are heightened, and he feels like he needs to say _something_, feels like he's going to explode if she doesn't know right now.

"I can't do this anymore."

She closes her book and shuts her eyes. She still won't look at him as she speaks softly, "What do you mean?"

He grabs her hand and makes her sit up next to him. She still won't look him in the eye, but he can tell she's listening.

"I mean, I can't sit here with you like this, Blair, as a separate entity rather than part of the team we used to be. It's breaking my heart."

She lets out a laugh, slow and shaky. When she finally looks at him, he can tell she's on the brink of tears.

"Mine too. I want to be _us_ again, Dan."

Everything's racing a mile a minute: his heart, his breath, his thoughts. She's looking down at his hands like she's willing, _begging_ them to grab her face and crash her lips into his.

She should be a psychic.

When Dan kisses her, the moan that escapes her lips sounds like "_finally_." When his hands move up and down her body, asking where she wants him to touch her, her hips arch up in a response that says "_everywhere_." When he tugs at her shirt, asking permission to rid of her of everything between them that isn't skin, she helps his fingers along with an urgency that begs "_please_."

_Finally. Everywhere. Please._

Her nails dig at his back as he nips at her neck, the two of them, at last, moving in time with one another after so long. He is whispering, "Blair, I love you. You're so beautiful. I missed you." When it happens, the thunder is so loud it drowns out the sounds she makes in response. He asks if she's all right, ironically as she is on the brink of losing all control. And yet, she responds.

"_Yes._"

...

The next morning, the storm is over.

Dan can't remember sleeping this well in months. In fact, he would still be asleep if it weren't for the pesky light that keeps flickering across his eyelids. He mutters, "Blair…" in the hopes that she'll understand that he's asking her to shut the blinds. But when he opens his eyes to peek out at where the bright light is coming from, he won't believe it.

It isn't the light directly from the window. The light is reflecting off of something.

He notices she's sitting up, her uncovered back turned toward him, but he can see enough of her face to tell that it looks like she's wearing a contented smile. Her head is bent down, and he's instantly curious about what is making her smile like that.

He sits up and kisses her shoulder, and that's when he notices.

She's twirling the ring on her finger, causing the light to bounce all over the room. She turns her head to look at him, her smile brightening into one of those unforgettable grins.

"Looks good, right?"

He wraps his arms around her waist and holds her left hand in his, running his thumb over the jagged surface of the ring. He squeezes tightly and matches her grin with one of his own.

"Better than ever."


End file.
